The Caschelor, or On the Arbitrary Giving of Roses
by amor-remanet
Summary: During "Changing Channels," Cas finds himself in The Bachelor, and Gabriel has some notions about how this is going down. Dean/Castiel, a little Cas/Anna, and one-sided Cas/Everyone.


Castiel disappeared in his suit, tie, and trench-coat, with duct tape over his mouth. He had inklings that this Trickster they'd been fighting wasn't really a Trickster; he, Sam, and Dean had to talk about it, it was important… they needed to know exactly what they were up against, and just how dangerous it was…

But he comes to in just a suit and tie, in a room that he has never seen before. Despite the fact that he has apparently been reclining on an expensive-looking sofa, his suit shows no wrinkles or anything like them. Besides which, everything seems oddly lustrous, as though it's all been polished to within an inch of its life. Frowning, Castiel sits up and leans over, rubbing the surface of the coffee table by his feet. It makes no noise at all. Obviously, there must be some other reason for the shine, and whatever it is makes Cas feel sick to Jimmy's stomach.

And he thought that the room where people were eating live spiders was bad.

There's a crack like a whip, and Castiel turns to look down at a likely cause for this. He smirks up at the angel too knowingly for a Trickster, though — and something about how he arches his eyebrows says that he certainly isn't. Castiel tilts his head, pondering this and it hits him. Rebel, he could do that — but he does not forget the faces of his brothers.

"Gabriel," he announces, unimpressed. The archangel's smirk broadens, and he nods. "What on Earth are you doing playing a Trickster?"

"Are you _kidding_ me, bro?" Gabriel balks, laughing. "If you had to pick between listening to those sons of bitches squawking about who loved Daddy more and hanging around with some pagans…" He tilts his head and chuckles. "Oh, but no. You stuck with them all and fought until Thing One talked you into rebelling, am I right?" Castiel purses his lips and clenches his fists; this only makes Gabriel laugh harder, and smack him on the shoulder. "Come _on_! Lighten up, Cas."

"Why would I do that?" Castiel snaps. "There isn't any time for this, Gabriel. Where are Sam and Dean?"

"Relax! They'll be _fine_… if I feel like it." The playful way Gabriel curls his lips says that, no, really, there is time for this, if he decides there is. And he likely decided that there was a month ago. "Tell you what, kiddo: I'm making the Ditz Brothers do it, so here's a proposition for you. Make it through my game, and I'll let you out. Sound good?"

"What game?"

Almost immediately, Castiel regrets asking this. Gabriel snaps his fingers, and they're in a different room, one that appears to be far too opulent for Castiel's taste. "See, this is your bedroom," the archangel explains. "Real Egyptian cotton sheets. Bed's big enough for two… or more—"

"I don't _sleep_, Gabriel," Castiel points out. Nor does he understand why he would need room for more than one in his bed, even if he did.

"Who says you'll be sleeping?" With another snap, they're elsewhere. "This is the _bar_ area, and _that_…" He gestures at some tall, dark man standing behind the bar, mixing up something with grenadine and cherries impaled on a plastic straw. "That is Richard. I'm sure you'll get to be _very_ good friends while this is going on, and don't worry! There's enough liquor here that even the Winchesters couldn't drink it all."

A series of snaps brings them through a garden, a stable, an Olympic-size swimming pool, and finally onto an elaborate set of stairs. From somewhere, a large crowd has found its way to and gathered at the bottom of the stairs. Immediately, Castiel picks out Sam and Dean, but there is something about them that just isn't right, not least including how they're grinning like idiots about this situation. Overly enthusiastic idiots. Their father and Bobby stand nearby, and behind them, Uriel and Zachariah wait at attention. Chuck Shurley, his girl Becky Rosen, Anna, and Lucifer — whose vessel seems to have developed the stage of syphilis wherein sores appear on one's face — slouch to varying degrees.

Most worrisome, though, are all of the demons peppered throughout the crowd: Azazel's yellow eyes stand out between the whites of Alastair and Lilith, while Ruby and the demon whom Sam and Dean call Meg stare intently up at Castiel. This makes no sense at all — why would Gabriel have _demons_ here? Besides that, where did he find them? Castiel knows for a fact that all of these demons, with the exception of Meg, are dead. Wrinkling his nose, he frowns and turns to his brother.

"What is the _point_ of this, Gabriel?" he demands.

Gabriel smirks and says, "You'll see. …Oh, and by the way? Banishing or killing the demons is against the rules. So don't try it, okay?"

With another snap of his fingers, Gabriel disappears. Standing atop the stairs alone, Castiel looks out on the throng assembled below him. He frowns. Perhaps it is just the large contingent of demons looking up at him, but he cannot see any of this ending well.

The first thing that Castiel learns about Tall Dark Richard Who Mixes Drinks is that he does much more than mix drinks. Apparently, he also arbitrarily decides what inane activities Castiel and his pack of people, angels, and demons are going to take part in at any given point. The first one he comes up with is horseback riding. Castiel is given a white mare to ride, and Tall Dark Richard Who Mixes Drinks says to call her Deanna. Castiel gives the horse a perplexed look, which slowly becomes one of resignation.

It isn't quite that Castiel finds her to be particularly irksome, but he just wants this to be over with and he finds it unsettling that no one else seems to notice that the world they're in isn't the real one. In fact, no one else seems to _care_ about that. Everyone seems to be thoroughly enjoying their ride through several overly picturesque fields and past an unnervingly blue river… except for Castiel.

And except for Chuck, but Castiel supposes that he can't blame him. After all, his horse knocked him off while he was giving the back of Becky Rosen's head a longing glance.

At the end of the night, Castiel finds himself standing on a sweeping, melodramatic staircase with an inexplicable red carpet. By his side sits a table full of roses and a group of people (and angels, and demons) have gathered before him. He does not know why they are all dressed to the nines, but none of them sees anything odd about it. They all just stare up at him and smile so much that it has to be hurting their faces. For several minutes, Castiel just stares at them in silence. He puts his hands into his trench-coat's pockets, and the throng looks increasingly expectant.

"I… I have no idea what I'm supposed to be doing here," he tells them flatly.

Tall Dark Richard Who Mixes Drinks calls out from the bar, "You give roses to the ones you want to stay."

Castiel sighs and picks one of the roses up. "…Dean," he says first. For a brief moment, as he walks up to the staircase, Dean's smile appears to be genuine, but then he takes the rose, retires back to where the rest of them stand, and he looks unnatural once again. Castiel frowns and surveys the group. "…Sam?" he calls, picking out Anna and Uriel next.

This process repeats until there is only one rose left and Castiel's choices are Zachariah and Lucifer — a difficult decision. Strictly speaking, Castiel wants neither of them to stay, but, then, he wanted none of the demons to stay either and yet, all of them have roses in their hands. Holding out the last rose and ignoring the nauseated feeling that attacks him, Castiel says, "…Zachariah."

He does not apologize as Tall Dark Richard Who Mixes Drinks leads Lucifer away; the house will be much better off without him. As Lucifer walks out of the house and down the steps, music starts — a set of violins playing something slow and sad. Castiel furrows his brow and looks around. He sees nothing, no musical instruments of any kind. No one else bats an eye. Grimacing, he asks Dean, "…Please tell me that you can hear those violins."

Dean seems confused. "Dude," he says, "what violins?"

Castiel sighs and retires to his room. Even though he tells everyone to leave him alone, however, Tall Dark Richard comes knocking, with a bottle of whisky in his hand. "Dean Winchester said to bring it up for you," he explains.

Castiel drinks the entire bottle before the night is out.

Aside from the obvious, there has to be something wrong with the other people (and angels, and demons) around him, Castiel notices after a time. First of all, music keeps popping up during tense or dramatic moments and no one else can hear it. More importantly, though, Castiel is the only one left who doesn't seem predisposed to randomly talking at no one. He isn't sure if he's just missing something, or if there might not be a ghost lurking around in here, or if they've all just simultaneously gone insane in exactly the same fashion… but, inexplicably, they've been having the same sort of fits. In the middle of any action, regardless of what it is, someone will step out of it, walk up to a wall, and start talking to themselves. Sam was the first to do it, but now it seems that everybody wants to do it.

"I think there's something going on between John, Bobby, and Azazel," Becky Rosen says to the wall before her, eyes wide and her expression distressed. "Maybe it's just that I walked in on John and Azazel wearing blindfolds and handcuffs and calling Bobby 'Daddy' but... I really don't think they're here for Castiel, and if they're not really here for Castiel, then they should get sent home already."

As Sam walks by her, Becky pauses to call out to and wave at him; he smiles politely and waves back, which makes her sigh. She goes silent for several minutes, staring off after him as though she might be able to discern the secrets of the universe and how it all comes together, just by looking at where Sam has been. Even though an appreciation for irony still escapes him sometimes, Castiel cannot help but find this amusing, when coupled with her insistence that only those truly here for him should go home.

Finally, she turns back to the wall and tells it, "I just wish somebody would listen to me about it, you know?" Sighing again, she worries at her hair, tucking one piece behind her ear and twirling others around her fingers. "And that bitch, Ruby, had the nerve to tell me that no one's ever going to believe me because it sounds like the plot for my latest fan-piece — can you _believe_ that? …I mean, yeah, okay, I write fic, but I only write it about Sam and Dean, okay? …Except for those few that were about Sam and Rivka, the library worker who was kind of like Giles from Buffy and totally _not_ based on me… but that doesn't mean I'd make something like this up!"

Huffing and stomping her foot (which does nothing to help make her point, though it seems to give her some comfort), Becky storms off. Without a word, Ruby comes in and seamlessly fills Becky's place, arms on her hips as she starts snapping to the wall about how much of a psychotic liar she thinks Becky is. Again, all things considered, the irony has some amusement value to it, but Castiel has no time to appreciate it. Sighing, he slumps and lets his head loll against the wall. Impatiently, he calls out, "Gabriel!"

Gabriel _pop_s in, wearing a police officer's uniform for some reason Castiel has no desire to know. "Think you've figured out my message yet?" he asks.

"No. I am just as confused as to what you think you're doing as before. But I need to know…" Castiel sighs, and tilts his head in Ruby's direction. "Why is everybody doing this?"

"They're called _confessional moments_, bro," Gabriel explains with a roll of his eyes, as though trying to say that Castiel should have just known this. "All you have to do is find a wall, look at it, and start talking about your thoughts, your feelings, who's bugging you and why… It's like therapy for morons, and it keeps the drama compelling. …Go on, you try one."

Castiel arches an eyebrow at Gabriel. "No," he says.

Gabriel crosses his arms over his chest. "I swear — you are the _worst_ spoilsport I've ever met."

And, with that, he disappears again. Ruby seems not to have noticed, and continues explaining for the wall's benefit how she, Meg, and Lilith are forming a strategic alliance against everyone else because, apparently, they're the only ones who really, _truly_ love Castiel. "Dean is our worst competition," Ruby drawls over-confidently. "I mean, it's obvious that he thinks he's going to win just because he's Dean Winchester, and Castiel seems to really like him — can't imagine why, considering how much of a dick he is to Sam, but you know what? He's not going to win, because we're not going to let him."

Castiel shoves himself off the wall and walks away. Ruby's hubris makes her that much more difficult to listen to.

Castiel does not like the little red "Speedo" thing that Gabriel expects him to wear around the pool. It fits him very tightly, and it makes him feel exposed, but Tall Dark Richard Who Mixes Drinks is, apparently, also a lifeguard and he refuses to let Castiel anywhere near the pool unless he is wearing the "uniform" that Gabriel has selected for him. Attempts to argue proved futile, and as Castiel reclines on one of the strange plastic chairs and closes his eyes, he supposes that it could be worse. At least, everyone else appears to be preoccupied with being split into teams in some misguided attempt at making dinner.

This does not last long. Upon hearing the sound of flip-flops thumping toward him, Castiel opens his eyes. Wearing a black bikini, Meg sits in the chair next to Castiel. She takes her long, dark hair down from a ponytail and shakes it out, letting it graze across her shoulders. As she slides on a pair of sunglasses and turns onto her side, he thinks that he is possibly meant to find this display attractive, or at least inviting. Mostly, he just wishes she would leave.

"Oh, Casti_eeeel_," she says, over-emphasizing the last syllable of his name in a truly repulsive fashion. "Do you want to help me put on my sunblock?"

Closing his eyes, he simply tells her, "No."

"Are you _suuuuure_?"

He nestles into the chair and says, "Yes."

"Are you _really_ sure?"

"Meg," he sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, "it isn't particularly sunny and I would like to be left alone. I think that you will be just fine without sunblock."

She sighs, practically whining as she does. There is a dull thud, presumably as she rolls onto her back, and several minutes of silence follow it. The only thing to dislike is the way that Meg runs her fingers up and down his cheek, but since she doesn't say a word, Castiel thinks that he can tolerate her touching him. This, too, does not last long: just as Castiel grows fond of the silence, there is a splash. Meg shrieks. Lazily, Castiel opens his eyes and sees Alastair looming over Meg with an empty highball glass. Something sticky and red runs down her face, her chest, and shoulders, and a piece of celery sticks out from between her breasts.

"He _told_ you to leave him alone, Meg," Alastair explains flatly, cocking his head. "You know, if you can't follow a _simple_ request, I have to wonder… are you really here because you love Castiel?"

"You're such a bitch," Meg snarls. "And I am so _tired_ of your face."

Without another word, she launches herself at Alastair, knocking both of them back into the pool. As Castiel leaves, the sounds of them arguing over who does or doesn't love him follow him until he's safely in the house. He slouches up to his bedroom and wishes that his "Speedo" had pockets; he would very much like to put his hands into his trench-coat's pockets. Once he's alone in his room, Castiel puts the clothes that he prefers back on, but just as his other moments of silence, this one doesn't last long. As he's doing up his tie, someone knocks on the door.

Said someone turns out to be Dean. He has a bouquet of roses and a bottle of something called KY Lubricating Jelly. Apparently, he has replaced wearing a shirt with wearing a cowboy hat. "Hey, Cas," he says as though they do this every day. "What's got you so down?"

"Oh, nothing," Castiel explains. "I just fail to see what I'm supposed to be learning by watching Meg and Alastair fight over me."

Briefly, Dean seems confused. His face falls and his shoulders slump… but even so, he tries again: "Well, if it's all right with you, I'd like to grip you tight and raise your spirits from—"

"Dean, just stop it." He closes the door and leans against it until he's sure that Dean is gone.

Checking the hallway reveals that Dean left behind the roses. Castiel puts them on the bedside table.

"I want to do bad things to you."

Castiel has no idea how to respond to that. All he knows is that Zachariah's smile makes him feel very unsettled. Possibly like running and jumping off the balcony of this purported French bistro. He doubts that it would hurt that much, though Gabriel probably has something waiting there to dissuade Castiel from doing so. Considering that Zachariah can be rather creative when he wants to make someone suffer, jumping off the balcony would probably be better, in the long run.

Zachariah leans across the table and repeats: "I want to do _bad_. _**things**_. to you."

"So you've said."

His smile widens, and grows more slippery. "I think you've misunderstood me, Castiel," he says. Now, the positively wicked grin shows off Zachariah's teeth. "I want to do very, _very_ bad things to you. Maybe with a whip and handcuffs…"

Castiel flags down the waiter, and tells him, "We would like the check please."

Zachariah is going home tonight.

For their single date together, Uriel takes Castiel to dinner at an Italian restaurant. It is nice.

Uriel has a man with a violin play a song for Castiel. It, too, is nice.

Uriel takes Castiel to the movies. It is nice, even though some girl throws popcorn at them, and the plot makes no sense, and Castiel finds the sound of Sarah Jessica Parker's voice grating.

Uriel tries to kiss him, and it is not nice. While he isn't sure that he wants to send Uriel home just yet — he is, after all, one of the only sane members of the household — of one thing Castiel is certain, and it is that Uriel's tongue does not belong in his mouth.

Upon their return home from the date, Castiel retires to his room to think.

Although Castiel means to simply eliminate Uriel, it seems that Gabriel has other ideas. From his bedroom window, Castiel watches a scene between contestants unfold, even though he can't hear what any of them have to say. Meg and Ruby sit on lawn chairs, drinking margaritas and talking to each other; Castiel imagines that their tone must be conspiratorial, but that, he can admit, is simply because he doesn't think that two demons talking to one another can do much more than conspire. Ruby dips a French fry in her margarita and eats it. For whatever reason, she seems to enjoy it this way.

Without warning, Uriel swoops in behind the two demons, puts his hands on their heads, and kills them. The margaritas spill as their bodies slump to the ground, and Uriel is caught entirely off-guard when Anna stabs him in the back. Despite the fact that he should not have the power to do so, Sam once again uses his demonic psychic powers to kill Alastair while Dean shoots Azazel with the Colt (which raises the question of how and where Dean _found_ the Colt, until Castiel remembers that this isn't real). During the fighting, Chuck drags Becky away and they jump the fence together, no doubt running away to some place with more sanity than this one.

Through all of this, Lilith sits on a swing, on a play-set that Castiel could swear was not there earlier, smiling placidly and, no doubt, humming to herself without a care in the world.

There is a _pop_, and Castiel turns to find Gabriel reclined on his bed, eating chocolate-covered strawberries. "Hey, bro," he says again, entirely unruffled.

"What is the point of all this, Gabriel?" Castiel sighs, and tilts his head toward the dead bodies out the window. "…And where are Bobby and John Winchester?"

Gabriel shrugs. "Don't know, don't care — but _you_ are going about this far too slowly, so I had to get rid of some of the contestants. …Oh, come on," he says to Castiel's perplexed expression. "Like you really wanted to go home with _Alastair_." He joins Castiel by the window and shudders. "Yeesh, they really did a number on each other, didn't they? …Well, think of it this way: now you've only got to worry about Anna, Lilith, and the Blockhead Brothers."

He disappears again before Castiel can disagree.

Anna takes Cas to a picnic on the beach. It is nice.

First, she sends a missive to his door, telling him to meet her by the pool at five in the evening. When he does so, she blindfolds him and, with a hand on his shoulder, she leads him down a path he doesn't know. He points out that they could just fly there, but she only laughs and tells him that it's more romantic this way. Castiel cannot think of anything to argue her assertion, really, but then again, as he acquiesces, he has never done this before.

After a walk that seems to take a rather long while, Anna puts her hands on his shoulders and lowers Castiel to his knees; the blanket feels soft and warm under his hand, and the sand shifts underneath him. Castiel hums pensively, a tight frown forming on his face. Anna shushes him warmly and nudges the blindfold off. A calm breeze blows through, ruffling her hair. Unperturbed, she pulls a basket from apparently nowhere and sets it between them. There's pie inside, which they eat together, and even if it's all a part of his brother's game, Castiel thinks that he now understands why Dean is so fixated on it.

As the sun sets, Anna runs her fingers through Castiel's hair. When she kisses him, he considers that she is practically his sister, but it doesn't feel wrong the way that kissing Uriel did. Castiel cups her chin with one hand. "You're really great, Castiel," she tells him, and despite himself, Castiel briefly wishes that Gabriel weren't fabricating everything.

**Ten Ways In Which Castiel's Single Date With Lilith Could Have Gone Better**

**1.** First and foremost, Lilith has possessed a six-year-old girl. Castiel has never given thought to what pedophiles feel like, and he finds the thought completely distasteful, but he imagines that, if Dean were here, watching him sit at a pink plastic table with his knees underneath his chin, opposite a beaming blonde girl with pigtails, then Castiel would hear about it until the next time he needed to drag Dean from Hell.

**2.** Lilith spends the first ten minutes of their 'date' requesting that Castiel talk to her stuffed animals. He learns that the purple bear is called Tippy, the white cat is called Mister Whiskers, the dog is called Sparky, the monkey is called Koko, and the penguin is called Boots. Boots, he thinks, looks intelligent, if inanimate. He asks Boots what he and Lilith should talk about. Boots says nothing in response, but Lilith assures Castiel that Boots likes him. Needing to take Lucifer's First at her word feels, somehow, very, very wrong.

**3.** There is no tea in Castiel's pink plastic teacup. He has never had tea and cannot say whether or not he likes it, but its absence, as many things about this date, feels wrong.

**4.** Vaguely, Castiel wonders if Gabriel would give him tea if he were to ask. Without meaning to do so, he ends up staring at the wall in deep contemplation. This affords Lilith the opportunity to pronounce him "very silly" and put a sparkly unicorn sticker on his forehead.

**5.** "You don't play pretend very well do you, Castiel?" Lilith asks, her expression serious, as though she is about to fire him for losing important documents, or having independent thoughts, or whatever it is that humans fire each other for.

"I've. …I've never had the occasion to play before." Nothing good can come of this, he thinks.

Lilith sets a shiny plastic tiara with fuzz onto Castiel's head and informs him that he is going to be the virtuous princess in a tower and she is going to be the fire-breathing dragon. He wonders if this is how being emasculated feels. Even if it isn't, he doesn't like it very much.

**6.** After ten minutes, Lilith says that he makes a very bad princess. Castiel is not surprised, but he is still confused as to why he should care. He tries explaining to Lilith that he's an angel, not a princess. She decides to tell him about a puppy she had once. Apparently, he was mean to her, so she ripped his heart out.

Castiel sighs, and promises her that he will not be mean to her. He rather likes Jimmy's heart being in its proper place.

**7.** For almost half an hour, they sit in silence while Lilith draws with crayons and colored pencils. All of her pictures are rudimentary at best, and all of them depict Dean in various bloodied states. One features Alastair torturing him.

"I think I got Alastair's hair _just right_ in that one," she says with pride. "But his smile's kind of wrong. He looks a lot scarier in person. But I'm cuter than him, right?"

Castiel hesitates too long in answering. Lilith shoves him onto the floor, then draws a picture of herself torturing him.

**8.** The next picture is of Dean bending Castiel over a desk. Neither of them are wearing clothes. Castiel does not like how hot his face feels.

**9.** "You know, I'm surprised you don't remember me," she says, rolling her eyes and looking up from what she promises (cross her heart, swear to Lucifer, and everything) will be her last picture. "I mean, I know it's been a really, really, really, _really_ long time? Especially in _Hell_… but I thought you'd _remember_. …It's kind of mean of you to forget me like that. I don't _like_ it when people are mean to me."

Not wanting to be mean, Castiel asks, "What do you — what did I forget?"

For a brief moment, Lilith actually looks hurt. "Come on," she pleads (can demons plead? Castiel has never investigated this before). "I mean… the humans all think that God did it all when He made everything, but we both know that's a bunch of lies. And all the stupid people think there was only Eve with Adam, but… I was there _first_, Castiel."

Lilith stabs one of her colored pencils into the table. It punctures the plastic, and then she snaps the end off. "You know better, Castiel," she says. "You were there, too. You _know_ that I was there first."

"You would have _stayed_ there first," he points out, "if you hadn't listened to Lucifer."

Immediately, Castiel thinks that saying this might have been a bad idea, but he does not appreciate having his knowledge of the world's history questioned. He considers what he might hear if Sam and Dean were around to chastise him for doing so. On the one hand, it _is_ Lilith, who helped trick Sam into starting the Apocalypse, even though she was not a little girl at the time. On the other, if Castiel learned anything from the business with Jesse, it is that Sam and Dean are very susceptible to making emotional decisions when children are involved.

Lilith jumps up onto the plastic table and kneels before him. "It doesn't _matter_ what I did or not," she says, her voice low and her eyes squinted at him. They turn white. "You'd listen to him too if you had to put up with Adam. And I mean the real one, not the stupid one who's brothers with Sam and Dean. He's so stupid he couldn't fight off a _ghoul_."

"The ghoul caught him off-guard," Castiel points out. "Besides, John Winchester didn't raise him to be a hunter."

"That's still pretty stupid, though. I mean, if a ghoul was eating you, would you try to kill it or would you ask if it wants ketchup?"

"I don't think that ghouls eat ketchup."

Lilith sighs and rolls her eyes. Castiel is not sure how she manages to do this when they're white, but she still does it. "It doesn't matter," she huffs. "I still had to put up with him. And bad things still happened to me!"

"You _wanted_ to sin," Castiel snaps. Even having rebelled, some of Heaven's lessons stick with him. "You wanted to fall into Hell."

Mostly, these lessons stick because they are true.

They do not, however, prevent Lilith from grabbing him by the collar and jerking him into her face.

"And whose fault is _THAT_?" she growls like a Hellhound, complete with the gnashing of teeth. "Who _MADE ME_ like that, Castiel? Who put me through all of that _torture_, and _pain_, and listening to Adam talking all the time, like, 'Blah blah blah blah blah blah _BLAH_'!" She scrunches up her face, and whispers, "_Who_. DID. it?"

In the silent pause she allows him, Castiel remembers what he'd tried to bury under eons of diligent service to Heaven: during the Creation, Lilith had been his handiwork. Just to make sure that she doesn't try anything else, he hazards, "…I did?"

Her eyes return to normal. She beams at him. Then she pecks him on the cheek. "Don't sound so scared, silly! I just wanted to make sure you remembered! It would've been awful mean of you not to remember."

The residue of Lilith's lipgloss sticks to Castiel's cheek, no matter how much he tries to wipe it off. He does not think that six-year-old girls should be wearing lipgloss, even six-year-old girls possessed by white-eyed demons. The picture is of Sam and Ruby in a church; Sam wears a wedding dress. Castiel is still wearing her shiny plastic tiara with the pink fuzz on it.

**10.** The fact that all of this unsettles Castiel less than his date with Uriel worries him. Something must be wrong. Aside from the obvious, Castiel means.

For the first time in what seems like forever, Castiel finds himself alone in his bedroom and no one comes knocking to bother him; it's relaxing, even if he feels as though there is an uncomfortable amount of focus being given to his face. He sighs, and stares straight ahead. Even though he knows that this is unreasonable, he can't help the notion that the wall is watching him, with its odd floral papering and the off-green paint that reminds him far too much of corpses. He tilts his head, trying to ponder why on Earth it feels like the wall is watching him, or how a wall could do so in the first place.

And then the answer comes to him. With a sigh, he glares at the wallpaper. "I'm not going to talk to you about my feelings," he informs it.

Gabriel appears in the room with a _pop_. "Come on, Castiel," he sighs. "You've been on a couple single dates now… Just play along with it."

"No."

Gabriel rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "Jeez, did you get voted Most Boring in angel school? It's easy — everybody else is doing it. Just look straight ahead and start talking about whatever's on your mind, okay?"

"If everybody else sided with Lucifer, would that be a good reason to do it?" The logic here is simple: playing along with Gabriel's 'game' is, at best, a form of mild insanity, and Castiel will not succumb to it just because other people have. Castiel does nothing else, save telling Gabriel, "I'm not going to do it."

Gabriel sighs again. "You're no fun." And with another _pop_, he disappears.

As the others before him, Dean takes Castiel out to dinner and at an upscale restaurant where neither of them truly fit in. Castiel, in his same suit, tie, and trench-coat as always, doesn't stick out too terribly, but the waiter frowns at Dean's dirty jeans and Motörhead t-shirt, and his green jacket has decidedly seen better days. Even so, they get a table and Dean starts to make the date better. Most notably: unlike his predecessors, Dean has the notion of buying alcohol, and this makes the entire process easier. It starts with a bottle of wine — perhaps Sam's influence on him making itself visible — but, sooner rather than later, he and Castiel start downing shots of whisky over their special-ordered cheeseburgers.

By the time they get back to the mansion, Castiel has reached a point of intoxication and Dean is what the humans call "shit-faced." Everything makes him either laugh or rub his face against Castiel's neck and, leaving the limousine, Castiel drapes Dean's arm across his shoulders. Steadying him somewhat seems like a good idea. As they stumble through the door, up the stairs, and down the corridor, he says as much several times — "Dude, I'm shit-faced. …I didn't even drink as much as you and I'm… I'm totally shit-faced. …Cas — shit, Cas, I am so goddamn shit-faced. …How the hell did you drink so much?"

"I'm an angel," Castiel explains flatly, while Dean kisses his neck. It is, he figures, most likely an accident. "We meh— we muh— we metabo… we process alcohol differently than you do." In a silent moment, Castiel gets the time to consider the sensations around him — the way his legs wobble and how Dean's breath smells like liquor and bacon — Dean's nose rubbing up and down his neck — Dean's chapped lips, and his warm, wet tongue… Castiel sighs and jerks on Dean's arm. "I think you need to sleep, Dean."

"Yeah…" Dean agrees, sighing — warm and whisky-laden — on Castiel's neck. "Sleep's good. …'m gonna sleep with _you_."

"I'm an _angel_," Castiel repeats. "We don't sleep."

Dean chuckles and kisses Castiel's neck again, then his cheek, and finally, his lips. "So _not_ what I meant," he mutters, nudging Castiel's bedroom door open with his foot.

While still practically dangling from Castiel's shoulder, Dean takes the lead, getting them over to the bed and only pausing because Castiel insists on closing the door. They fall into bed together with more ease than Castiel would have thought they'd have. Falling always seemed like such a messy business. As Castiel's back hits the mattress, Dean worms out of his jacket and his t-shirt. He sits over Castiel's hips and nudges him to sitting. The trench-coat comes off easily, and Dean undoes Castiel's tie as though it's nothing at all. The buttons of his shirt come off without a fuss and the white cotton joins the slowly accumulating pile of clothes.

Caressing Dean's cheek is far different than caressing Anna's, not least because of how Dean's stubble rubs Castiel's hand, warm and rough. He loses himself in this kiss — in the lingering tastes of dinner and liquor, and the overpowering taste of warm, wet mouth. Dean runs his tongue along Castiel's expertly — slow one minute, and then, the next, pulling back so Dean has the opportunity to press a smaller kiss against Castiel's lips, his cheek, his neck. Under Castiel's fingers, Dean's skin warms and his muscles tense up.

All goes well until Castiel palms Dean's naked shoulder, feeling smooth skin beneath his hand where the raised burn scar ought to have been. He pauses, and tightens his hold there — the skin stayed as unmarked as a newborn's. Peering up at Dean, Castiel sees everything through a sparkling, blurry, pinkish filter. He pauses and, over his pounding heartbeat, he hears the music starting again — some slow, romantic pop song with a warbling, female vocalist who sings about the lustful-sounding son of a preacherman.

Castiel sighs. "…Dean, please tell me you can hear that. …Or see the… starry things, at least."

"All'm seein's an angel who's getting _so_ laid," Dean says. "And all'm hearing's too much talking, Cas." Without another word, Dean kisses him again. Castiel welcomes it, sighs into it, and even puts his tongue in Dean's mouth before Dean has the chance to do so first — but he pulls back before he loses himself in that taste.

"Dean… I can't."

Dean sits up, and Castiel follows suit. "Why _not_?" Dean sighs — and, to be fair, Castiel can see his point. They've come so far

Castiel lays his hand on Dean's cheek. It feels real, the way that Dean's cheek should feel, but Castiel knows that it isn't. His brow furrows, and the regret feels like Jimmy's stomach has been filled with lead and possibly his heart. Castiel kisses Dean one last time, and explains, "Because you're not _you_."

Before either of them can do anything else, Dean disappears and Gabriel shows up in his place, accompanied by his all-too-familiar _pop_. With a snap of the archangel's fingers, Castiel's intoxication disappears and he notices: for some reason, Gabriel's frown is no longer impatient, but frustrated and not a small bit disappointed.

"No, seriously, little brother," he sighs. "You are no fun."

"I'm really glad we're getting this time together."

Seeing Sam smile is a rare occurrence, and Castiel can't help but notice that something about Sam's face seems… _wrong_, at the moment. Over-eager maybe. It's straining his face far too much, Castiel knows that. Sighing, he says, "Sam, could you please…" Unsure of how to ask this of him, Castiel trails off.

"'Could I please' what?" Sam asks. Confusion and fear jolt onto Sam's face, but the end result is by no means comforting, or any more like Sam would be normally, not that some more normalcy would necessarily help much. A large part of the blame for his discomfort rests on Gabriel's shoulders, yes, but if Sam — the _real_ Sam — were to make faces such as these, Castiel thinks that he would still be rather put off by the end result.

Judging solely on how tightly Sam clasps his hands around Castiel's, the time for thinking is not now. Sam frowns in what Castiel can best describe as the utmost agony. "'Could I please,' _what_, Cas?" Sam reiterates, voice straining. "Look, I… I know that I'm not perfect. I know that I set Lucifer free and started the Apocalypse and everything… and I know that you think you have a stronger connection with Dean than with me, but Cas, you _don't_. You've got to believe me. I've known Dean longer than you have, and he doesn't form connections with _anybody_. After he got back from Hell, he wouldn't even open up to _me_—"

"Well, you weren't being exactly honest with him either, Sam," Castiel points out. It doesn't quite _hurt_, having his hands grasped like this — it would take much more than this to harm an angel — but, nevertheless, it is uncomfortable.

"And I know that," Sam sighs, "and I'm sorry for it… but not to Dean. …I'm just sorry that I hurt you in the crossfire, Cas, because I was being selfish, and angry, and reckless, but I'm working on changing that about myself, because I _love_ you." As though this makes his point clearer, Sam grabs Castiel's hands tighter, and jerks him closer. Castiel knocks over Sam's water glass as he slides across the table. "I love you more than anything, Cas," Sam says. "And all I want is to be with you. _Forever_."

"You're a human," Castiel says flatly. "To be with me forever… I would need to return to Heaven, and then you would need to die."

Sam releases Castiel. He picks up a butter knife and puts it to his own throat. "Then so be it."

Gabriel hasn't afforded him much in the way of certainty, but after managing to wrestle the knife away from Sam, Castiel feels it once again. He knows what he has to do.

There were two roses left to distribute tonight; the first one went to Anna, based on a chat with Tall Dark Richard Who Mixes Drinks. Castiel ghosts his fingers up and down the stem of the second, looking from Sam to Dean. Why he couldn't just give Dean the first rose is beyond him. He would have rather done so, but Tall, Dark Richard Who Mixes Drinks seemed to think that giving Anna the first rose was a better option. Castiel purses his lips and looks at the ground between his shoes. The still inexplicable background music swells.

He looks up and holds out the rose. "…Sam," he says. "You have been an interesting experience — I mean. Getting to know you has been an interesting experience, but… I'm sorry. This rose is for your brother."

Dean breaks out into a relieved smile and practically skips down to Castiel. As he takes the rose, Sam bursts out into tears. Watching Sam sob into Tall Dark Richard Who Mixes Drinks' shoulder, Castiel thinks that he should have something else to say to the unreasonably tall Winchester, something witty or heartfelt, or even something false if it would just make him _stop_. But, before he can even try, Tall Dark Richard escorts Sam off the premises.

With a sigh, Castiel turns to face Anna and Dean. Their face-consuming smiles unsettle him perhaps more than anything else has.

Castiel slams his bedroom door shut and shouts out, "GABRIEL!"

He waits a moment; nothing happens. Again, he shouts, "_GABRIEL_! …Come on, Gabriel! I'm done with this!"

With the familiar _pop_, Gabriel shows up in the room, smirking as usual. "Done with what, bro?"

"This _game_ of yours," Castiel sighs. "I'm done, I'm not playing anymore—"

"Oh, you're playing until I say you can stop."

"Whatever you're trying to prove doesn't even make any _sense_," Castiel snaps. "So, really, what's the point? Just let me go back to Sam and Dean."

For some reason, this gives Gabriel pause. "Whatever I'm trying to _prove_?" he balks. "Seriously, Castiel, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that hanging around with those chuckleheads has started making you stupid." He searches Castiel's face for something, and, when he doesn't find it, he adds on, "…Well, maybe it has."

"I have _no_ idea what you think you're doing," Castiel says again. "Or what the point of it all is, assuming that there is a point."

"'Assuming that there is a point,'" Gabriel parrots snidely. "_Really_? You can't see the point of this?" Castiel shakes his head. "How thick do you have to be not to see the point that you want to do the horizontal Monster Mash with Dean?"

"…I don't understand that reference," Castiel points out.

Gabriel sighs and rubs at the bridge of his nose. "Alright, in terms you understand: you and Dean are really, really good friends, and _you_, Castiel, want benefits with that. …Like love. …And sex. …And it's not _wrong_, okay?" Castiel agrees, even if he isn't entirely sure that Gabriel's telling the truth. "…Brother, will you stop giving me that _look_? If you weren't meant to feel this way about Dean, you wouldn't because Dad wouldn't have given you the capability. Period, end of story, any other questions?"

Castiel shuffles his feet. "…Can I go back to Sam and Dean now?"

"Nope," Gabriel says simply. "I think you need to sit and think about this for a while first." Again, he disappears.

Castiel sighs. He sits. He thinks about it. Eventually, a _pop_ takes him to Sam and Dean. He still isn't sure that Gabriel told him the truth, but he can safely conclude that he needs to do something about the unresolved feelings that his brother tried to address.

After several aborted attempts to talk to Dean, Castiel realizes that he does not actually know how to best tell Dean how he feels. The three words, 'I love you,' would be the easiest way, he imagines, but Castiel has heard them far too much lately, and from far too many people, angels, and demons. Trying to string them together feels wrong, much in the way that having Uriel's tongue in his mouth felt wrong, and Castiel suspects that, although he would tell the truth in saying them to Dean, they wouldn't fully capture it.

This is why he has brought Dean with him to this beach, with the intent of… not _seducing_ him, but of doing something similar. Dean, however, is somewhat less enthused. Maybe, Castiel thinks, the rocks around Lake Michigan are making this difficult; the beaches in Gabriel's illusion did not have rocks. "Why the Hell am I wearing the blindfold, Cas?" he demands. Castiel catches him by the arm before he wanders off a ledge into a ditch.

"Because I would like for this to be a surprise," he says flatly, leading Dean up the path that he traversed alone earlier.

They find plenty of surprises when they reach the place Castiel set up for them. The picnic blanket is as he left it, but with one glance at what he left there, his face falls. Gulls pick at the pie and the paper plates alike, while two raccoons rifle through the picnic basket, devouring everything with no regard for the fact that an angel of the Lord might have had a purpose in leaving them there. Dean removes his blindfold and gives Castiel a perplexed look.

"…You wanted me to see some rats with wings chowing down with raccoons?" he asks.

"No," Castiel sighs. This is ridiculous — why didn't his picnic plan work out properly? It had worked for Anna, in Gabriel's illusion. "It was meant to be a sort of… romantic display of my intentions." Dean seems confused. Castiel continues: "I have given up much for you, Dean, and done several things that, before I met you, I never would have thought I could do, for better and for worse, and yes, I usually am not _pleased_ by this fact, but I wanted you to know that I don't regret it, even though I probably should. You're special to me, Dean, and I…"

Castiel pauses. He seems to have confused Dean even further, and the way that Dean wrinkles his nose makes Castiel think that he would call this a "chick flick moment," whatever that means. Entirely without other ideas, Castiel grabs Dean by his jacket and kisses him. To his surprise, Dean kisses him in return.

Strictly speaking, Gabriel knows that waiting behind a conveniently placed bush and watching his little brother try to get lucky is not exactly moral behavior — but, then again, he skipped out of Heaven anyway, so what the Hell does he have to care about _morality_? Smirking, he watches Castiel's attempt at a romantic display. He watches Castiel fumble over his declaration of affection. And, finally, he watches Dean and Castiel kiss.

Gabriel snickers and claps a slow, sarcastic clap. Standing up, he whispers, "Way to go, Tiger." And, with that, he spreads his wings and makes his exit.

Dean and Castiel don't notice a thing.


End file.
